


Wolfboy

by LaNaHaze



Series: Boy Multiverse [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bestiality, Blood, Blood and Injury, Doggy Style, Father/Son Incest, Graphic Description of Injury, Incest, Love Bites, M/M, Masturbation, One Shot, Original Character(s), Other, Outdoor Sex, Parent/Child Incest, Self-Indulgent, Smut, Trapped, Underage - Freeform, Wolves, beastiality, recurring character, wolf - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-27 13:14:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30123288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaNaHaze/pseuds/LaNaHaze
Summary: A man goes on the hunt for his missing son, and finds him in a compromising situation. This story is extremely explicit.Part of a series of multi-universe scenarios, aka, one-shots with recurring characters.
Series: Boy Multiverse [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2216901
Comments: 1
Kudos: 15





	Wolfboy

**Author's Note:**

> Please take all warnings and tags seriously. Enjoy.

Christopher had not seen his fourteen year old son for two days. 

As he laced up his boots and donned his jacket, his teary-eyed wife found him in the hall, and threw herself into his arms. Christopher, an upright, solidly built, curly haired farmer's son with sky-blue eyes and a pleasantly handsome face, tried to comfort her to his best ability while simultaneously escaping her as fast as possible. 

He finally left the house ten minutes later, and the morning sun along with the cool spring breeze and chirping birds brought on an odd sense of calm. He trudged down the driveway, through the front lawn, and down the hill toward the edge of the forest. The cornfield was clear, and he cut through it to the edge of the forest. 

Christopher's son had demanded the first day of the hunt be his alone, and on their property the only people who hunted was Christopher and some of his extended family. When Joseph had failed to return on the first night, he had called off the hunt, and put the party on standby as a search party. When his son had failed to return a second night, he was unwilling to wait for anyone to arrive, and decided to set out on his own.

The previous night had been an anxiety fueled nightmare. His wife couldn't sleep, and sat up all night weeping at the front window. He had trouble sleeping at night already, and at thirty-nine years old, was feeling the lack of sleep more than he wanted to admit. It was all he could do not to cuss out his wife at the door, and when he finally arrived at the entrance to the woods, he had to take a deep breath and purposefully clear his mind.

Joseph was six inches shorter than his dad, at five feet and five inches, and Christopher was sure he could track him successfully. He had already found some boot imprints on the grass leading to the familiar pathway through the woods, toward the promontory they frequented. His own tracking skills had been honed at fifteen, and since his son was born he hadn't utilized them as much, but he scanned his surroundings carefully and listened.

Fifteen minutes into his search, he found a distinct impression, close to the promontory, of someone having sat still for a long time. But there was no sign of the boy. Every ten to fifteen minutes, the crack of a gunshot rang out and echoed across the valley. Christopher's blaze orange jacket didn't help him feel any better about not being shot, and he scanned for other hunters as well. 

For an hour Christopher walked in circles searching for any signs of passage. Another two hours were wasted following another hunter's trail, and then after a ten minute chat with the neighbors he found another trail with a familiar boot imprint. 

Joseph had left the house Friday morning, telling his parents that he was on his way to the promontory to sit and wait for his chance. Christopher himself had shot quite a few deer from that spot, and so expected him to be home at least before supper that night. When he hadn't arrived home an hour after dinner, Christopher had tried to call his cell phone, even though nobody got service in the woods. It had been all he could do to keep his wife calm that first night, telling her that Joseph was a big boy, that for a teenager he was very capable, and that he was probably at his friends', or that he had made camp for the night on the promontory. He had done it before, and Christopher sat up until midnight hoping to catch a glimpse of a campfire on the ridge. 

The next morning his wife was beside herself, and Christopher took the truck out and drove up and down the access road, and then around the neighborhood to ask if anyone had seen the boy. The day was spent chatting with the wives of the hunters in the party and awaiting their return, and when nobody had seen him, he began to feel panic of his own. Stories of kidnapping in recent years were heavy on his thoughts that night as his wife sobbed at the window, and he hallucinated worst case scenarios with his head stuffed beneath a pillow. 

“Joseph!” he called out into the woods, and a flock of birds burst out of a tree in front of him. By now Christopher had left his property, and was deep in the public lands. People didn't usually venture that far into the woods, as the lands were inaccessible unless you approached it from the private properties that surrounded it- one of which was Christopher's. The trail led him directly toward the center of it, and he listened for any movement apart from the flapping birds wings.

He watched the birds fly away and listened, and closed his eyes and tried to imagine where his son would have gone, and what could have happened to him. He watched the boy topple off the cliff, watched him fall out of trees, step on ground bees, shoot himself by accident, and break his leg in a number of different ways, but he opened his eyes and the thoughts faded to the back of his mind. 

Christopher plunged into the underbrush. Thorns tore at his thick jacket and his knitted cap became so entangled in a bush that he left it behind. He came to a drop off and found signs of passage: Boot-prints and a long rut in the ground where the person had apparently slipped over the edge of the hill.

“Hello?” he called into the thick bushes, and the bushes shook in response, and a weak, hoarse voice answered him.

“Hello? Help. Please.”

“Joey!” Christopher almost jumped down the hill after him, and had to stop himself. He scanned the brush for a better way to get down, and his body was flooded with relief. “It's me honey, it's dad. I'm coming to get you. Are you injured?”

“Dad?” the word was spoken casually, but the voice was gravelly. “I'm here. I'm caught in a fence.”

“I'm coming, hold tight, I've just... gotta... get...” Christopher grabbed onto a small tree for support, but it snapped when his feet slid in the mud, and he landed hard on his butt and slid down into the bushes next to the ones his son was presumably trapped within. 

“Joseph!”

“Careful dad, there's barbed wire I'm- I'm trapped pretty good.” Christopher pushed through the bushes to a small, oddly tidy clearing, and in between two trees his son lay on his back, with his head pulled back so that he could see his father's approach upside-down. There were dark circles under his green eyes and he was covered in mud. Christopher hurried to him and fell to his knees. He helped Joseph sit up and let him drink the water he'd brought along. The boy's long legs were wound in razor wire, and blood seeped out around his knees and his upper left thigh. 

“Hey, I'll get you out of here, just hold on.”

“Dad no, I tried that, ow!”

Christopher grasped the barbed wire with his bare hands and pulled, and Joseph screamed so loudly it scared another group of birds from where they nested and into the sky. Christopher removed his hands and raised them above his head, and Joseph swore under his breath.

“Please.” Joseph laid back on the ground, breathing hard “Please dad, you need to cut it off.”

“Do you have your cutters with you?” Christopher asked, but Joseph shook his head. Christopher looked up at the sky and saw that the light was waning, and wondered if he would be able to find Joseph again in the dark.

“I can go, I can get some cutters and a blanket, tell your mom where you are...”

“No, please!” Joseph sat up and grabbed his arm, and Christopher had to throw himself up above the wires to avoid landing in them. He crashed into Joseph's body and landed flat on top of him, and quickly scrambled up and away, and the boy lost his grip.

“Don't leave me here! Please god! I can't spend another night out here alone! Stay with me, dad please.” The boy reached for him and Christopher returned, gathered him up in an embrace and squeezed him tight, felt him shake as if having a seizure, and held on. Inside his baggy clothes he was sharp, long and thin and surprisingly weightless. 

“What's wrong, Joseph what happened.”

“Please dad, don't leave me here, you have to get me out, before they come back.”

“Who, who was here, did they hurt you?” Christopher looked his son in the face, searched for any injury, any sign of violence. His son's face was a little dirty, and there was a scab healing on his forehead from the fall, but other than that it appeared perfect. His full, soft lips were chapped and cracked and his wide green eyes filled with tears, there was blood dried on the bottom of his small, slightly upturned nose. His face was so close to Christopher's that he could feel each shaky exhale against his chin. Christopher ruffled his dark curls and kissed his forehead.

“Dad, please get me out of here now. I need to get out of here.”

“Okay honey, I hear you. I'll get you out.” He left his son's side and returned to the tangle of wires, and traced each one carefully before he selected one to pull. Joseph groaned, and sat up. Christopher knew freeing his son would involve a lot of painful movement, and he tried to take the boy's mind off the immediate pain. 

“Tell me what happened to you, did you fall down here?”

“I was following a deer trail. I lost my gun. I tracked him out here, this far, I found scrapes and prints and... then I slipped down the hill and fell into this barbed wire. My phone didn't get service even when I tried to stand up...” he stiffened and set his jaw when Christopher pulled on a wire that caught and chewed into his leg. Blood oozed out and Christopher's entire body went on red alert.

“Don't look.”

“I passed out when I saw my legs, when I saw... the blood... when I woke up I couldn't get free. I can't pull free without seeing the blood. Dad, I tried to pull myself out, I tried to call you but my phone.” he groaned in pain again and Christopher stopped trying to brute-force the wires off his leg. To his right was the tree that the fence had grown through, and under his boots was more wire. It was rusted and stuck to his boots, and he shifted his weight, careful not to become entangled himself. 

“Joseph, I can run home and get the cutters, it'll take me two hours tops, I know where we are I can-”

“Dad please, don't leave me here alone.”

“Just two hours, I'll bring lamps and a flashlight, a blanket.”

“No!” Joseph screamed at him, and Christopher was shocked into silence. His son covered his face and took a deep breath, and Christopher bit back the words he wanted to speak, forced himself to wait. Joseph laid down and spoke up to the trees, and Christopher went back to work on the wire. The boy squirmed and groaned twice, and Christopher searched his pockets in hopes of finding the utility knife he usually had with him. It was in his left pocket, and he tried to saw through some of the wires with the blade but it only made a small ridge in the metal.

“My phone won't get service. I turned on the flashlight and kept it on all night. The battery died by the morning. I was here alone, dad, I kept thinking about you, the whole time I was thinking of you. The second night was so much worse.”

“Worse how, what happened?” Christopher cut his finger on a wire and lifted it to his mouth, looked up to see his son staring at him, his eyes were wide and his face was completely blank.

“Joseph?” Christopher stopped what he was doing and jumped up, stumbled into the wire and the boy didn't make a sound. The barbs sliced through his pants and he rolled sideways out of it, managed to escape without being caught, and reached for the boy, but the boy was unresponsive.

“Hey, hey kiddo, hey.” He lifted each of Joseph's eyelids, tried to see if he was conscious, and for a moment it seemed he had fainted. Christopher laid him back on the ground and rubbed his chest firmly, to shake him gently back and forth, chanted his name and begged him to awaken, and after what seemed like an eternity, the boy's eyelids fluttered and he groaned.

“Please no, no more...”

“Joseph? It's okay, dad's here.”

“Dad? Ugh, don't, please don't...” he tried to struggle out of his father's arms, and Christopher held him firmly. In the small clearing, the bushes that surrounded them shook in the breeze, and the fading light that shined through the leaves above cast strange shadows down on them both. Christopher pulled Joseph into his lap, and his son shivered against him, and tried to wriggle away.

“I'm sorry, I'm so sorry dad.” Joseph sobbed as he struggled. “It's my fault. I was so weak... I'm so weak.”

“Joseph, listen to me, it's over, I'm here now.”

“The dogs... wolves...” his son sobbed and covered his face, took a deep breath, and dropped his hands. His face was blank and he spoke in a monotone. 

“I want to go home.”

Joseph flopped back into the grass and moaned, covered his face with his hands and whined through them. Christopher returned to the barbed wire and examined the tangled razor blades. As he cleared away leaves and pulled at branches, he saw that the dirt was stained and hardened with blood. Terrified thoughts of sepsis flashed into his mind, and he forced them away, forced himself to focus only on the present moment. With a stick he slowly edged it under a tight wire, and Joseph shouted.

“Stay down! It's going to hurt but I have to do it.”

“I'll be good, I'll be a good boy...” Joseph lay still on the ground and Christopher pulled out one of the barbs. Blood oozed out around it and then when he released it, it sunk back inside the hole it left. Joseph arched off the ground and grunted, and then lay back down again, his hands at his sides.

“I'm a... good... boy...” he hiccuped.

Christopher twisted the wire up and bent it, and then took the barb in his fingers and pulled it. The blade sliced his fingertip and he dropped it quickly, but the wire was bent and laid flat on top of his son's pant leg. He brought his finger to his lips without thinking, and tasted the old and fresh blood and the metallic rusty taste. He spat onto the ground, and fought the urge to vomit.

Christopher slowly pulled a long, thin piece of metal from where it had penetrated inside his son's leg. The visual was sickening, the blade-like piece came to a long, stretched out point that shined darkly, like oil, and dripped thick clots back onto the earth. His stomach turned over and Joseph's words flowed into his head as the smell of blood filled his senses.

“I lay here alone, asleep. I was afraid of the pain, and the cuts and bruises but I wasn't afraid of the forest. I couldn't stay awake after the sun set, it was so dark and so cold... I thought if I could just survive the night that I might... be okay...” he groaned when Christopher twisted a wire that tightened another high up on his leg.

“I'm sorry honey!”

“Dad. I'm so sorry.” Joseph's face screwed up and fresh tears ran down his face. “It's my fault that I'm even out here, this whole thing is my fault, I deserve this.” he twisted around in the dirt suddenly and hissed at the sky. “I deserved it!”

“Hold still!” Christopher desperately yanked on a strip of wire and the blade sliced into the side of his right palm. Blood burst out of the wound and he gripped it uselessly. Joseph gasped and went still, and Christopher quickly used the dulled point of his knife to slice off a strip of material from the bottom of his t-shirt. He wrapped it around his hand, and the guilt of tending his own wound while his son was practically bleeding out in front of him crashed over him.

Joseph had fallen directly into what had to have been a coil of barbed wire, like a cartoon character putting their foot directly inside a noose trap. In his haste to escape the metal had coiled up around his leg and tightened as he pulled himself away- Christopher wondered if they moved him toward the bramble if it would loosen. Joseph's right foot poked at his father's shoulder in a playful way and Christopher looked up to see him propped up on his elbows, his head bobbing back and up as he fought to stay conscious. Christopher tugged the wires, trying to get them to move down toward Joseph's foot.

“I knew you would come for me.” the boy groaned. “I dreamed about you over and over, you burst through there in your big truck and pulled me loose, carried me home... Papa. My savior.”  
Christopher's heart stopped beating for a whole three seconds and he watched his son's flushed face tip back as the boy collapsed again to the ground, his arms folded at ninety degree angles so that his hands floated through the air, demonstrating his words. 

“I dreamed about you when I was awake. It was nice. They asked me to reveal you but...” the boy giggled and clasped his hands over his mouth so that his words were muffled. “...but I kept you secret.”

“Was someone here with you?” Christopher began to feel sick. Everything was wrong, the way his son's clothes settled over his slim frame, the depth that the razor barbs had embedded themselves, the bruises on the boy's face and arms...

“Shh... it's a secret. Don't tell!” Joseph giggled, and his voice sounded different, as if he was trying to make himself sound younger than he was. 

“Joseph?” Christopher spoke calmly through his pounding heartbeat and rising fury and panic. “Who was here? Was it one of the neighbors? Someone from the hunting party?”

The boy shook his head furiously and covered his eyes.

“I'm so cold, stay with me, I'll do anything you ask please, just stay with me, lay with me. I can be a good boy, too.” he sat up and his green eyes found his father's, his lips and cheeks were flushed a deep red and pink, and he shed his camouflage jacket and as he pulled at his t-shirt, Christopher saw long, deep cuts on his flat belly. They ran across his stomach and around his small waist near his hips, where there were more hidden, Christopher was sure, on his back. He moved quickly and yanked Joseph's shirt up and over his head, exposing the cuts and bruises. There were more on his back, and over his spine that poked out in ridges just below the back of his long neck, there were four puncture wounds- teeth marks.

Joseph leaned heavily against him and shivered so hard the barbed wire rattled, and Christopher put his arm around him quickly to steady him. Joseph reacted as if he'd been struck, arched up, twisted his long torso and groaned again, and then nuzzled into his father's chest, his nose near Christopher's shoulder.

“They saved my life.” he spoke in a half whisper, as if he didn't want to awaken someone. Christopher's field of view began to shrink as his son's words slipped into his head and images played out behind his eyes.

“They came to me with heat, and they were, so sweet to me. So warm. They were playful, and soft, and they whispered to me. I was so cold. They spoke such... enticing words. They whispered them to me, in my ear, in my head. They got inside and drowned me out. I did what they wanted, I wanted what they wanted.” he twisted in Christopher's arms so that his mouth was pressed against the collar of his shirt, and his breath caressed his chin and the side of his jaw.

“Papa...” He breathed. “Papa...”

The words created still images that flashed so quickly by that they might have been moving. His son's thin body, his olive-toned skin and newly developing muscles, meeting the roughness of the wolf's fur as it overpowered him. And then the boy's quiet, clumsy acquiescence as the beast bent over him and the sudden movement, the muscles tense...

“Ah-” Christopher tried to pull himself away, but the boy latched onto him and it wasn't his strength but his desperation that kept him where he was. A sickening guilt swept over him as heat built up inside him, and his arousal became physically evident. The almost skeletal figure flashed in his mind again, his eyes hidden beneath his hair and his mouth hung open, arched up, vocalizing his pleasure with mindless abandon as the dog forced itself deeper and deeper inside him. Christopher twisted sideways and vomited into the dead leaves. He crawled away and Joseph sobbed into the dirt.

“Papa!”

“Stop saying it...” Christopher growled. Every muscle in his body was tense, electric impulses that traveled impossibly fast up and down his back made him shiver. The world around him had turned gray and he could only see a tiny speck of what was in front of him. The image of the claws digging into his son's body- he dug his fingers into the earth. The image of the dog's teeth catching Joseph's skin and pulling, and his son arched back and screamed.

“Dad?” Joseph spoke in a small voice.

Christopher turned around and fell onto him. The boy wrapped his arms around him immediately, but then squirmed when Christopher's mouth found his throat. He pressed his teeth into the boy's flesh and dragged his tongue across his bony chest to his shoulder, and bit down as he climbed onto him, and pressed his erection into Joseph's leg. It took a few seconds to get there, and taste of the sweat and the scent of the unwashed boy almost overpowered him a moment later. As time began to move at a steady pace again, Joseph's agonized cries filtered through the rush of blood in his ears.

“What are you doing?” Joseph asked, his eyes round. Christopher pulled back and shifted his weight, pushed his cock against the front of Joseph's pants and Joseph blushed even redder and covered his eyes, unable to move away. Christopher humped him several times, watched his breath catch and felt his arousal twitch against him. He rolled off him and manipulated his body, lifted him carefully and let him cry out as the blades sliced into him anew. When Joseph was on his hands and knees Christopher bent over him, fit himself against him and held him close against his chest. He tongued the boy's ear and his son shivered. 

“Tell me, what they did to you. What did they say?”

“They were sweet.”

“Sweet? How so?” Christopher's right hand ached as he set it casually over his son's throat, and slid it down to the soft, small nipple on his chest. He circled it with his fingers and waited for it to harden, and then tugged gently. Joseph gasped and arched at the base of his long spine, pushing his butt upward against his father's cock. 

“They s-said I was in danger, that they would protect me.” His son sputtered. 

“You're lying to me.” Christopher pinched again and Joseph tried to pull away, but he was trapped in place.

“I'll do what you want!” Joseph whined, his frustration evident as he dropped his head. When he spoke his voice was so small that Christopher laid his head on his back to hear him speak.

“They're wild animals, they're so big- I can't run, I'm so small and cold and weak...” he shivered and moved his right leg outward. “Come play with us, little one, we brought you heat... Survive the night, with me... They're so hot, papa they're so... hot...”

Christopher groaned, already pulling at his zipper. He pulled himself out of his clothes, dragged his shirt over his head with his jacket, and yanked his son's pants down, and there was blood and bruising there too. He pushed his fingers into his mouth and then slid them over the hip bones that stuck out behind his hips, down between the two muscles, and found the soft entrance that gave into his advance with very little resistance. Joseph whimpered and straightened up until he stood upright on his knees, and Christopher embraced him with his right arm, slipped it down and found his erection- it was his turn to gasp. The thing in his hand was massive.

“Jesus.” he commented, and squeezed it, almost to make sure it was really what he thought it was. His son stiffened and pushed his head back against Christopher's chest, and he released the grip, took it lightly in his hand and moved as if he moved over himself. The sensation was strange, calling on muscle memory he didn't realize he had, with no satisfaction to encourage him. He slid his fingers down to the base and then slowly back up, counting as he did.

“One, two... four... six... eight...”

Joseph's head was craned down and his hips tipped forward, he was watching it play out in the rapidly dying light.

As a clean wetness appeared at the tip of his cock, Joseph twisted his neck around and spoke against his father's neck, shivering.

“Bring me heat, oh please-” Before he had finished Christopher bent him over and pulled his own throbbing cock out, and immediately shoved it against the boy's warm body; Joseph yelped like a dog and Christopher gripped himself, spit into his hand over and over and smeared it over himself, forced it inside the squirming body with his fingers, and then carefully lined himself up again and pushed forward. Pleasure radiated up from his stomach into his head as he sank slowly into him. 

“Like this? Was it like this?” he panted, and Joseph whimpered from where his head met the earth. Christopher bent over him, in his mind he snarled through bared teeth and then whimpered, licked playfully at his son's ear and his claws sank into the flesh of his stomach and hips as he roughly thrust into him. 

He could barely see, and his body wanted only to be in one way, he stretched his arms and dragged his son's hips back with every thrust, each one seemed too weak, too slow, and the next was harder and faster and sent hotter sparks into his brain. He felt like a machine built for one purpose, to fuck the daylight out of this little body held captive beneath him. His skin was cool against Christopher's chest and the contrast between the boy's dark Slavic body and his father's light European skin made him shrink beneath him even further. Christopher's muscular forearms held him solidly in place as he slammed into him again and again. 

He was so small, breakable... 

With every thrust Joseph whimpered, and as he continued the boy raised himself up and locked his elbows, and took it, pushed into it, and breathed through his wet mouth. He twisted his long body side to side and looked back at his father, and his long tongue snaked out and wet his lips.

“Was it- like- this?” Christopher panted out. All he could see was his son's mouth, his vision tunneled out, one green eye in silhouette, wide open and watching him carefully, the tongue writhing in and out of view, teasing. 

“Almost.” Joseph said softly. Christopher whined in frustration.

“Tell me... what they... did!”

“What the fuck do you want me to say? They hurt me papa! They forced their big fucking dog dicks into me and raped me! I wanted it... I begged for it... but even when I didn't they never stopped- they ruined me... fucked me again and again and fucking...” he shivered and Christopher felt him tighten around his cock, he was having an orgasm. He reached down and grasped his throbbing cock and milked it, desperate to come himself but he needed more...

“They're hard, like stone, like knives, they forced their way in, even after so many it hurt. It hurt so much and then they would... come... Ah...” he sobbed loudly and Christopher pushed into him, desperate to get inside as far as he could. He scraped his fingernails down Joseph's chest and stomach, his cock slid in and out of the abused hole, lubricated with his saliva, with blood and wolf seed. 

“It felt so good.” He sobbed. “I couldn't stop... thinking about you. I wanted you! They fucked me over and over and only wanted you, inside, please more. Fill me, take them out of me please!” His voice cut off when Christopher grabbed his hair and pulled his head back, and finally unraveled inside of him. Agonizing heat and almost unbearable orgasm tore through him and he lost his breath.

“Like this, like this.” he gasped for air, the sparks burned into a fire that flashed through him with such force that his mind tumbled until it was blank, only flashing images remained among abstracted shapes and forms. He saw the taught skin and took in the scents and the feelings all at once until he was dizzy, and then the sudden relief that came with it swept through him and he relaxed. He bit down on his son's back until he tasted blood, and held him still as he throbbed inside him. In his mind he was huge, hulking and covered in soft fur and his cock swelled up inside the weak body beneath him, and he forced it to take everything. The boy underneath him screamed and went limp, his jaw slack and his eyes rolled back as he was overwhelmed. He wanted nothing more than to stay in that moment forever, but the pressure was too great, and he had to pull away. 

Christopher fell back away from him, pulled up his pants, dizzy, disorientated. His son pulled up his own pants and collapsed onto his side, exhausted. Christopher approached him on all fours, stalked forward and dropped his head to his son's face and kissed his open mouth forcefully, and the long tongue weakly responded to his own. 

He helped him re-dress and then put on his own clothes, then they worked together to force the barbed wire back into a coil, and Joseph stood on it while Christopher spent half an hour dislodging each blade, until he was able to get him free. They hiked through the woods in the dark, their path illuminated by stars, Joseph with his left arm over his father's shoulder, until they finally made it to the house. 

After his wife finally left their son's room to sleep, Christopher sat at his desk and stared out the window at the starlit fields and forests, and wondered if anything could be normal again.


End file.
